Highland Devil

by Hannah Howell

“A runt. If ye like a runt, sort through the next litter or three. Ye will find one.”

  “I tried that before and I picked out one you thought was a runt, but it grew. And grew some more until it was nearly as big as a dog. It also did not wish to sit with me but go out and kill things.”

  “Aye, George was a fine rat killer,” Sigimor agreed.

  “He was, but he did not need to parade around with his kill as he so often did.”

  Sigimor just grinned and Gybbon nearly laughed, but Freya distracted him. She sat up, put her paws on the table, and started looking over the food there. He tugged her back down onto the bench beside him. He glanced at Sigimor’s wife but she just grinned. Gybbon thought she might be spending too much time around Sigimor.

  “I will make her up a plate of food,” Jolene said.

  “Ye intend to feed that cat our food at our table?”

  “’Tis clear she is accustomed to sitting at the table,” Jolene replied to her husband as she cut up some meat and put it on a plate. “Does Mora allow it?”

  “Aye. Freya is a verra tidy eater, tidier than many men I ken.”

  “And I suspicion you cut up the meal for the wee thing?”

  Gybbon sighed and nodded. “I put aside some of a rabbit I caught to use it as her food as we traveled.” He shook his head and poured himself some cider as Sigimor laughed.

  Jolene set a plate in front of the cat and then slapped Sigimor on the arm. “Hush.”

  “Where is this son of yours?” Gybbon asked. “He was sleeping when we arrived, but I thought for certain a child that young would be up at this time of the day.”

  “And then we would not have a very comfortable breakfast, would we?” said Jolene. “He is awake and has broken his fast, but his nurse is with him.”

  “Ah.” He frowned toward the door. “I wonder why Mora is late to rise.”

  “She was very tired when you arrived.”

  “Is that what she wanted your healing skills for?” Gybbon asked, wanting to be certain Mora had told him exactly what ailed her.

  Jolene winced. “I got the feeling she did not want you to know and, perhaps, worry.”

  “So, it was her wound? The one she always claimed was nay more than a scratch?”

  “I told ye last night. Aye, it was as though her fall worsened it. It was far more than a scratch. It looked as if some fool tried to gut her.”

  Gybbon growled and Freya rubbed her head against his arm. “Robert. She told me of that incident but said the point of his knife just scratched her a bit, although I could tell it pained her from time to time.”

  “That does not surprise me. It should have been stitched up immediately, and when your ill-tempered horse tossed her to the ground the wound opened wider than it had been, but I can certainly understand her reluctance to stitch up herself. The bleeding had ne’er really stopped.”

  “I wondered. When we stopped at the cottage I found a few small spots of blood on the blanket. I dinnae understand why she just suffered and didnae tell me.”

  “Weel, the wound can only be reached and treated if she sheds her clothing,” Jolene said as she sat on the edge of the bench and shook her head.

  “Ah, of course.” Gybbon grimaced. “Modesty.”

  “Silly thinking, I know, but I am no good at suffering with pain. I would shed my clothing before a whole army if it meant someone could stop my pain.”

  “And I would wear myself out killing all those men who looked at ye, so we best hope ye are ne’er pushed to that point,” drawled Sigimor. “Come to me if ye feel a pain.”

  Gybbon shook his head and laughed softly. “And what would ye do?”

  “I would do a lot of patting her on the back and saying ‘There, there, stiffen your wee backbone and grit your tiny teeth.’”

  Grinning at the way Jolene rolled her eyes, Gybbon looked at Sigimor as Jolene said, “Aye, and that worked so very well when I had the girls.”

  Something in Sigimor’s eyes told Gybbon that his friend had suffered every moment his wife was in pain during a birth but that he loved the results of it so deeply he would not stop fathering more.

  “Weel, it stopped your screaming.”

  “Because I was stunned! I could not believe you thought it would help.” Jolene looked at Gybbon, as she ignored the way Sigimor fed Freya a little meat even though her lips twitched with the need to laugh. “Now, Gybbon, she may have just been denying that she was hurt or it simply was not a serious hurt at first.”

  “That sounds like foolishness,” Gybbon said. “She just didnae want me demanding to see the wound. That could have gone on for quite a while longer, but the moment she swooned from pain, fever, or the constant slow loss of blood, I would have tended the damned wound. She was just being stubborn or hiding behind needless modesty.” He glanced toward the door again. “I think I should check on her before Sigimor and I leave. She just wouldnae sleep so long. She had a touch of fever last night, ye ken. Do ye think it got worse?”

  “It could have. I will go have a look at her.”

  “Ye dinnae have to go up. I ken how to tell if she is feverish or nay.”

  “I did the patching. My job now is to make sure it is working,” Jolene said as she walked toward the door.

  Gybbon thought about that reasoning for a moment, caught Sigimor grinning at him, and hurried to follow her. When he reached Mora’s room, Jolene was already sending one of the maids for a pan of cool water and collecting up what she would need to change the bandage.

  “The fever has worsened,” he said as he walked up to the bed and stroked Mora’s hair. Freya leapt up on the bed as the maid returned with the water.

  “Aye. I feared it might.” Jolene set the bowl of water on the bedside table. “I want you to bathe her face to try and cool her down while I take a peek at her wound, mayhap even change the bandage. Ye are also to try very hard not to look at her.”

  “Jolene, I have seen a few women without their clothes on. I am nine and twenty.”

  “She would be embarrassed and, if she asks, I want to be able to say no without guilt or the need to hide my expression.”

  “That bad a liar, are ye?”

  “Abysmal.”

  He wrung out the rag in the pan of water as Jolene arranged the bedcovers to hide as much as possible while still giving her access to the wound. With as soft a touch as he could manage, he wiped Mora’s face and neck. Despite his best efforts to do as Jolene had asked, he glanced down at Mora. There was little to see and her wound grabbed his attention.

  Her skin was pale and the wound with its stitches, and lingering redness, was glaringly obvious. It was ugly, marring what looked to be unmarked skin. It also looked like far more than a scratch, and probably had been even before Jester had tossed her to the ground. Jolene was right. Robert had attempted to gut her as she fled him.

  Thinking of all the ways he could kill the man, he washed down her arms, then wiped the skin showing above the edge of the blanket. She had also been unarmed. He suddenly grinned and thought, Unless you count Freya. Seeing the seriousness of the wound also convinced him it was very necessary to hunt down the boy. A man who would try to kill a small, unarmed, and fleeing female in such a way would not hesitate to cut down a small boy.

  “Has the wound improved at all?” Gybbon asked as Jolene tied off the new bandage.

  “Aye,” she said as she washed her hands. “The fever is probably just because she was so long without the care it needed, acting as if she did not have a gash in her side.”

  “But she probably shouldnae ride a horse for a while, aye?” he asked as they left the room.

  “Oh, nay, she should not do that until the wound is tightly closed, and even then, she will have to go gently for some time. It would be best if ye could take her in a cart or wagon.”

  He softly cursed as he turned to walk into the hall, not waiting for Jolene as she had darted into her bedchamber saying something about washing and changing her clothes. Sigimor was no long
er alone. There were his brothers, Fergus and Tait, and three MacFingals as well. He had to wonder just how close the clans had become since Sigimor had recognized the connection between the families.

  “Do ye ever stay at your home?” he asked the three young MacFingals as he sat down on Sigimor’s left.

  “A lot, but we are nay missed much when we do leave. Too many of us,” replied Nathan.

  Geordie MacFingal nodded. “Aye, and ’tis probably for the best if some go for a wee wander now and then. Thin the herd,” he added, and grinned.

  Gybbon looked at Sigimor. “Jolene feels Mora’s fever is just because she didnae get the wound tended to fast enough. She shouldnae ride a horse for a while though, nay until the wound is closed up tight.”

  “Ach, then we will need a cart for ye to get to your brother at Gormfeurach, and that could make the journey more dangerous than it need be if for no other reason than it will be slower and thus longer.” Sigimor shook his head. “Ye can take some of these fools with ye though as, for the moment, we are on good terms with most all the clans and lairds for a fair distance.”

  “And ye think I should leave as soon as I get my hands on her brother and aunt, dinnae ye?”

  “I do.” He looked at his brothers and cousins. “Ye lads ready to travel to a wee village up the road?”

  “What are we looking for?” asked Fergus.

  “A wee lad of about seven and a woman who was caring for him.”

  “Someone wants them dead?”

  “Aye, e’en though they are cousins. They want what was given them by their father’s father.”

  “Reason enough for some.” Nathan helped himself to some of the bread still on the table.

  “Why do they think they should have it?” asked Fergus.

  “Because it used to be part of the keep and its lands and their father is dying. They dinnae like that their grand-da took a piece out of the estate, e’en if it was for his own son.”

  Fergus shook his head and took a long drink of cider. “Madness.”

  “Happens all too often,” murmured Nathan.

  “Still doesnae make sense,” said Fergus. “Ye are supposed to be able to trust kin. Ye are blood and there can nay be anything as close as that. It isnae e’en a fair battle as family kens all your secrets and all your weaknesses.”

  “I dinnae have any secrets,” said Sigimor, and frowned when Fergus just shook his head and laughed before shoving some eggs into his mouth. “Why is that funny?”

  Wiping his mouth, Fergus looked at his big brother, who was also his laird. “Because ye simply cannae keep them inside.”

  Sigimor looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “That may be true. Ne’er really done anything I felt I had to hide.”

  “Because ye are so weel behaved?” Gybbon just laughed when Sigimor spared a moment of glaring at Fergus to glare at him.

  “The only reason to be quiet is if ye did something wrong or something ye are ashamed of.”

  “Then you must be fair to bursting with secrets,” said Jolene as she walked into the hall and sat on Sigimor’s right.

  Sigimor gave a sharp tug on a lock of her hair, then grinned as she fussed to put it back in place. “So, the lass will be abed for a wee while, aye?”

  “Aye,” she answered, “although I cannot say for how long. Could be as little as a day or two or could be a week or more. I do not know how fast she can throw it off.”

  “What is the longest ye think it may take?”

  “A fortnight, and if it is not gone by then, then something else is wrong.”

  Sigimor nodded. “Then we will figure we have that long but hope it is much less, and definitely no riding a horse for a week or more.”

  “Aye, definitely none of that.”

  “The cart is already here, so we dinnae need to sneak it over here, so that is done. We just need to come up with a way to hide her in it and how to get it to Gormfeurach with as little trouble as possible.” He looked at Gybbon. “And get as much information as we can along with the boy.”

  “Do ye think he is still there with that woman?” Jolene asked.

  “I hope he is. But all we can do is hope he was taken somewhere safe before the cousins rooted him out.”

  “Do ye think they have gone to do that?” asked Gybbon.

  “I think they went to do that as soon as they failed to get into my keep.”

  Gybbon sighed and nodded. He thought the same, feared the same. The town was very small, so he doubted the boy would go unseen for long. He did not have any strong, armed men to watch out for him either. Only a woman that even Mora said could be silly now and then. There was very little to hang a hope on.

  “Then we best work hard to dig out as much information as we can.”

  “Aye.” Gybbon nodded and then took a deep drink of his cider to hide his sigh and worry. “The moment we start poking about they will start watching us much more closely.”

  “Ye think they ken ye are with her?”

  “Nay certain of it, but they did use time to speak with me once on the road where they were looking for her. Somehow, they kenned about ye and that her mother would have sent her to ye. So, it wouldnae be much of a leap for them to quickly put that all together and decide I was helping her. I brought Mora and ye more trouble than I thought.”

  “Nay, it wouldnae be a big leap at all. But cowards who try to kill and steal from their own kin are nay ones who will come at me in the open. They dinnae have an army with them.”

  “They do have the sheriff, I fear, and his men.”

  Sigimor shrugged. “Dealt with that mon before and some of his men are kin to mine. Just worry about the lad.

  “And when you go to the village remember all the ones those idiots may see as useless so do not question them, but they are just the ones you wish to speak with. The ones who run the shops and the women who hold the houses together. To ones who Robert thinks are not worth troubling himself with. He will see them as no better than dumb animals.”

  “Ye are right about that,” Gybbon said. “The mon is arrogant, blindly certain of how important he is. Ye should see how he treats his own brothers. I think they are all afraid of him.”

  “Yet they follow him.”

  “They do, but nay out of brotherly love or family honor. Out of fear. The youngest is tempting his brother as he actually tried to stop him from killing off all of Mora’s goats.”

  Jolene gasped. “What was the reason for that?”

  “She could still have a living if she had her goats.”

  “Oh. But he did not kill them because his brother stopped it.”

  “Only for a moment and he got a good beating for it. Nay, e’en if Robert is successful in getting hold of the boy, Murdoch’s life will be verra short. E’en the other two have warned him. I only saw the looks of warning, but I suspicion they have said something, too.”

  “So, what happened to the goats that lived?” Jolene asked.

  “Murdoch’s interference allowed some of them to leap the fence and run. Robert decided it was enough, that she wouldnae be able to gather them all up, I suppose.”

  “Which shows he has little knowledge of animals. I suspect those goats were well fed, sheltered, and pampered even. Of course they would wander back home.”

  “Or to one of the people who cared for them. That may help us find the boy,” said Gybbon.

  “Aye, it might. Will have to keep it in mind,” Sigimor said, then frowned. “Nay such a good thing though, as it may help Robert get to the lad, too.” He stood up and then bent to quickly kiss his wife. “We best be on our way. Ye keep watch, Jo. They may come here.”

  “We have big, burly men with swords here,” she said, and patted his hand where it lay on the table. “We will be fine. You just watch your back.”

  “Always do.”

  Gybbon got up, said his thanks and farewells to Jolene, and hurried out after Sigimor and his men. Sigimor paused to give some orders to the men lurking around outs
ide, and Gybbon watched them station themselves more precisely around the manor. Jolene was right. She had big, burly men with swords to protect her, and he wondered if Sigimor had purposely chosen his biggest men.

  Once mounted, Gybbon felt a touch more confident about what they had to do. It was a small but impressive little force of men and he doubted anyone would hesitate to answer their questions. He hoped he would have as much when he had to take Mora to Gormfeurach. He prayed they would not be needed, but he was not foolish enough to think Robert would not prove to be a problem. He was eager to get to Gormfeurach.

  Chapter Eight

  “Nay sure the eight of us riding into the village like this is good. Could make folk wary or e’en nervous,” murmured Gybbon as he glanced at Sigimor.

  “Nay, they have seen us before. The bigger town in the other direction sees us more often as it has an excellent alewife and an inn I dinnae mind taking my wife to.”

  “There is the butcher’s shop,” said Fergus as he moved up on Sigimor’s other side.

  They all stopped to look around but did not immediately see a blue door. Sigimor stared hard at a burned-out cottage, his expression growing darker with each moment he looked at it. Gybbon then noticed the flowers in front of the still smoldering pile, some burned, some stomped down by the ones who had come to fight the fire.

  Gybbon cursed. “They have already come after her.”

  Sigimor nodded. “Appears they have, but did they start the fire just to kill her and the boy or because they were angry that they couldnae find them? We will inquire of the butcher first.”

  Following him, Gybbon left his horse under the watchful eyes of Fergus and the MacFingal lads as he, Sigimor, and the others walked into the butcher shop. It was clean and well set up. One could smell the blood but only if one breathed deeply, yet there was no scent of rot.

  “What can I be doing for ye lads and m’laird?” asked the plump, aging man at the counter, nodding respectfully at Sigimor. “’Tis usually your wee lady who comes by. Mayhap ye could tell her that I will have fresh pig on the morrow.”

  “I will do that,” Sigimor said. “We were wondering if ye kenned what happened to the cottage across the road, the one that has burned down and that should still be being soaked as it smolders? Did it have a blue door?”